She Blogs in Silence...[Jack M.]

Well, it's been nearly 24 hours since I declared MKH my "perfect woman" and I have yet to elicit a response from her, save for that of an uncomfortable silence which, itself, has only been interrupted by the screaming certainty that a restraining order is in the works.

Which, if I have learned anything from Allah, means that now is not the time to admit defeat. Oh no...now is the time to put my confidence on display and step up my efforts!

So I shall. By writing a poem that expresses the depth and magnitude of my feelings. If she can read this poem, and still ignore me, I will know that it was not meant to be, and will move on. If, on the other hand, she is touched by this poem, then that faint spark exuded by kindred spirits meeting may yet ignite into a blazing inferno of internet romance.

See? How can you read that last sentence and not know that this poem will kick-ass?

Anyway, as my MKH is quite certainly a woman of modesty and virtue, I will put her poem in the extended entry so as to protect her dignity from prying eyes. My dignity was lost the minute I started reading this blog.

I call my work "She Blogs with Elemental Fury". I hope she enjoys it.

UPDATE: The two most beautiful words in the English language? She Noticed.

Thanks to Dawnsblood for the tip.

"She Blogs with Elemental Fury"

She blogs with Elemental Fury
and when she blogs
it is as if Thunder itself,
not content to rule the Heavens,
must expand its boundaries by
rolling, in waves, over the mountains of the Earth.

Or as if,
Beethoven or Mozart,
or one of those other artsy-fartsy music types
that no-one really listens to
but many cite to prove their erudition
has struck
a perfectly formed b-flat chord
in my heart.

And when she v-logs,
it is as if Lightning,
mercurial, quicksilver, lightning,
has chosen precisely this moment to illuminate my world,
removing the darkness, only to just as quickly withdraw,
and leave my burned retinas
as the only evidence
of its passing.

Or maybe not so much lightning, per se
as much as the Laser Light Show
that accompanies the Pink Floyd
tribute that plays for the Stoners
every Saturday in the planetarium
near the
park where I grew up.

And when she comments in my thread,
it is as if Ambrosia and Honey
dance merrily atop my tongue, threatening to
overwhelm me
with their sensual and decadent
tastes and flavors.

Except that I've never really had
Ambrosia and Honey. So I can only imagine
that it leaves a better taste in my mouth that
the time my Mom told me
I would never get a date
while rolling 20 sided dice,
and mapping dungeons on graph paper,
in her basement.

Yes, she blogs with Elemental Fury,
her fingers flashing, her thoughts
forming, her consciousness standing before
all to see, testament in and of itself
to the wonders
of recombinant DNA
and the powers of an almighty benefactor
who saw fit to grant
this player to our world's
stage.

By which,
of course,
I mean Allahpundit,
because without HotAir,
which is sort of elemental itself,
she would have been spared
my embarrassing
advances.

posted by Ace at 07:04 PM

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